Dismissed
by HolyMacaroni
Summary: No one believed it would ever happen but it eventually did: House got fired. Cuddy might not be able to save the day this time as she remembers when and why she hired him in the first place. Growing emphasis on House/Cuddy as the story progresses.


**Chapter 1 : Not another**** empty threat**

**Your comments will be devoured and cherished so knock yourselves out, use your power over me! I even accept remarks on the grammar: English is not my first language, but I'm willing to learn!**

« You're fired. »

"Mmmh. Sounds familiar. I think I can finish that thought: unless…. I spend two hours crotch-wiping in the clinic? Turn in before ten? Stop uploading peephole footage of the administrative staff locker room on my myspace account? Go on, ask anything. I feel in a giving mood."

She could tell he was on a high, no doubt from overuse of a certain painkiller. She knew he could ramble on forever when he was like that, which would normally be amusing to her, or overly annoying for that matter. Now, however, his drug-induced good humour felt painful, pathetic even.

"This isn't conditional, House. You're fired."

Just as she expected, he didn't flinch. Here he was, rummaging through a paperclip box, simply refusing to register the fact and dismissing it as yet another meaningless threat. Her own fault, she was aware. Years of painstaking give and take, with her more often than not surrendering to him for fear of disaster, or just out of shear exhaustion, could only serve to feed his invincibility complex.

"Right. What did I do this time? Let me guess." He didn't even bother looking up, focusing on the completion of a paperclip jewellery set, carefully alternating whites, reds and blues. "MRI won't get started after my apprentice mechanics tried a little manual reboot the other day? Or is it a patient again complaining he'd rather be dead and called sir than be treated like the pain in the ass he usually is and live another forty useless years?"

For once, she was patiently indulging his bout, arms folded and her eyes riveted to his, in an attempt to attract his attention to the seriousness of the situation. When eventually he looked up, he seemed genuinely surprised to see she was in no mood for arguing or yelling or generally demeaning him in those skilful ways of hers. She took a deep breath.

"House…"

"Here, I made you a necklace." He handed her a string of multicoloured paperclips, obviously proud of his work. "Peace offering. And there's a matching bracelet too. But I guess you could also use them as handcuffs, I know how much into that stuff you are."

He winked to make sure the meaning got across. She stared at the piece of childish craftsmanship in her open palm, for some reason suddenly very sad. Why, oh why did he have to make it even more distasteful than it already was? Couldn't he behave like an adult for once? She caught his puzzled, ever watchful eye. In the twist of his mouth and his frown she saw her own conflicting feelings reverberate.

"The board's voted 8 to 3. There's nothing I can do. Not this time. I'm sorry."

There was the grimace of a smile on his lips, then the faintest twitch of a finger on his lap and she knew it had sunk in on him. It was over. He had finally crossed the line and as much as she wanted to have him believe she was all powerful, this was beyond her. She lost eye contact with him, but of course, she wasn't the one who looked away.

"I'll make sure you'll get a generous severance package." Meaningless words, she knew, but something had to be said. "Even though whether you're entitled to it after all the money you cost this hospital is debatable." She offered a shy smile.

"I don't need your charity. The minute I'm out of here I'm getting your ass sued for anti-cripple discrimination policy."

"I made phone calls. The diagnostics department in Chicago is looking…"

"Don't." His eyes were on her again. The bewildering playfulness beyond the piercing blue was something she had always found hard to resist.

"Next you'll offer to throw me a goodbye party in the lobby with balloons and banners all over the place."

And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he grabbed his cane and stood up, thus ending their shortest argument ever. She felt the need to stand as well, unsure what to do next. What could still be appropriate with House? A hand shake? A hug? A pat on the shoulder, or a peck on the cheek maybe? She had never felt that awkward around him.

He was the one who saved appearances, as he always did, in his own way.

"I'll miss you, girls", he cried, bending over the desk to address her cleavage. "Make sure mummy keeps you warm. After all, she won't be needing to show you around that much after I'm gone."

Without another word, he began to limp his way to the glass doors, as she realized he would probably be crossing them for the last time. No more barging in, banging the doors open, interrupting phone calls or meetings, always throwing tantrums the second he was in her office, regardless of what she was doing, never knocking, rarely showing up when he was actually summoned in.

"House!"

He turned around, his hand still on the handle.

What more could she say? She already told him she was sorry, and he knew she meant it. For a moment, she considered telling him she would miss him too, but the words remained unformed on her lips. She tried to think of anything she could say that might help, that wouldn't be an embarrassment to him, but she failed miserably.

House let go of the handle for a second to fully face her. She could see he too was struggling to find the right line to end their ten-year old act. But there was an impossible distance between them that no words could bridge.

They had already been locked in a silent gaze for much too long when House eventually gave her the slightest nod, which could have meant anything from "All right, then. Better be off!" to the expression of his deepest gratitude.

"Goodbye, Cuddy."

"Goodbye, House."

And he was gone.


End file.
